


Never To Outgrow The Heart

by tielan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: rogueonekink, F/M, Galen Erso survives, Gen, POV Outsider, Romance, Shovel Talk, fathers and daughters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: Galen Erso wakes with the aftertaste of bacta in his mouth and a grim recollection of dying. After that, only one question matters:Where is his daughter?





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first Rogue One fic. This was supposed to be for the Rogue One [kinkmeme prompt](http://rogueonekink.dreamwidth.org/1084.html?thread=71228#cmt71228) _Cassian/Jyn, Galen gives the shovel talk_ , only...it didn't quite work out that way...

Galen Erso wakes with the aftertaste of bacta in his mouth and a grim recollection of dying.

Obviously, the meaning of the first is that the second was not quite as successful as the Empire might have liked. His own life is a small matter – one, a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million, a billion – after over a dozen years working in the Empire, the numbers blur.

And they will blur even more in the years to come if the message he sent hasn’t been received—

_Jyn._

He saw her face. Heard her voice. She held him, and in the midst of pain and guilt and shame, he thought he saw Lyra’s face, before the realisation dawned:  _Flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood._

He starts to drag himself up from the bed, then hisses with pain. But pain is nothing – only one question matters: _where is Jyn?_

The room isn’t one he recognises, so it’s possible that he’s no longer held by the Empire. Of course, he’s a known associate and sympathiser with the Empire, so if he’s held by the Rebellion, then his situation isn’t going to be much better. And that’s not even counting the possibility that he’s fallen into the hands of a third-party, in which case...

He needs to find Jyn.

Even if he’s nearly shaking as he manages to sit up in the bed.

A medi-droid clomps into the room, takes his shoulder, and pushes him back down against the pillows. “Sir,” it says, pleasant and impersonal, “Please do not exert yourself.”

“I want to see my daughter!”

Somewhere behind his thoughts, Galen is processing the room and its equipment, seeking cues for where he might be. He’s reasonably sure that he’s no longer held by the Empire, but how can he know? And how can he trust anyone to tell him—

“Sir, you are still healing from a blaster to the gut. Infection had not set in when you arrived, so all that remains is straight healing. It would be advisable for you to lie still. Further bacta treatments are required—”

Galen glares at the droid. “Stand down, protocol T1126-alpha-thi-gamma.”

Usually, the bypass code will counter and displace the care routine programmed into the medi-droid – like an emotional restraining bolt – but this one merely ‘regards’ him with what, in a human, would probably be the blink of mingled surprise and irritation.

In short, the look that Galen is presently giving him.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t work here, Galen.”

Galen turns away from the droid to frown at the man who stands in the doorway of the infirmary. His surprise lasts only a second – long enough for him to realise that he must be held by the Rebels, even if this man has never yet openly declared his partisanship. “Organa. I’m surprised to find you off Breha’s leash.”

“And I’m surprised to find you off Krennic’s.” Bail’s smile glitters thinly then vanishes. “Your daughter brought your message, by the way. Unfortunately the Council needed confirmation of it from your lips.”

“Well, they won’t get it before I see Jyn.” Galen has only that glimpse of his daughter – grief and horror etched into her face as she wept over him.

“Ah. About that...”

Galen looks at Bail, fear churning in his gut. “What has happened to my daughter?”

* * *

It turns out the Rebels can’t keep track of their own people.

“Let me understand you correctly,” Galen says when Generals Draven and Dodonna have finished talking. “The message I sent through Bodhi Rook was lost and my daughter’s word was disbelieved, even though she and one of your officers had brought me back, along with two men who survived the destruction of the city of Jedha.”

“A destruction we have no reports on, save for that small crew,” Draven interposed before Senator Mothma glares him into quiet.

“A crew which included one of your own officers. Who apparently has suborned her, Bodhi, the others who came back with them, _and_ a squad of your own people to attack one of the Empire’s secure data facilities without any assistance from your Rebellion? And you want my word that the Death Star has a weakness? You have it.”

“Dr. Erso,” Chancellor Mothma speaks quietly and clearly in the stunned silence after Galen’s scathing pronouncement. “You must understand our concerns. So far as anyone in this room – or the galaxy – knows, for the last dozen years you have been a willing collaborator with the Empire. This might very well have been a trap for the Rebellion to walk into.”

He wants to rage at them, because  _everywhere_ is now a trap. There is nowhere they can run now that the Death Star has been created. They cling to their lives and their Rebellion without realising that once the Death Star was conceived - nothing would have saved them but for Galen’s actions, and the courage of Bodhi in carrying his message away.

Bodhi, who is with Jyn. Who trusted Galen’s word. Both of them in more danger than can possibly be understood by either, because Orson’s people will be on the move right now to secure the database facility. And that is a trap from which the small band calling themselves Rogue One won’t be able to extricate themselves.

Galen chokes back his fear and leashes his anger. “If so,” he tells the ring of demanding faces around him, “then it’s a trap into which my daughter has walked – and you have the last laugh on me. The Death Star is real. The flaw in its making is real. And your need for the plans is very very real, because the instant the Empire realises where you’ve got your base, then they will come for you.”

“They’ll come for you, too, you know.”

Galen gives Draven a scornful look. “I’ve lived in the heart of the Empire for the last thirteen years, General, and been a dead man walking ever since I realised what the Empire was trying to build and the only way to stop it. Your threats do not alarm me.” He dismisses Draven without further ado, looking, instead to Mothma and Dodonna. “So, now that you’ve established that the Death Star is real and the flaw exists, what do you plan to do about backing up my daughter?”

Dodonna glances at Mothma, who nods. “I presume you have entry codes into Empire space?”

“I do. However, after the attack on Eadu, I don’t know if they’ll still work. But to save my daughter, I’m more than willing to hand them over.”

“I believe,” Draven says, “we have several operations that—”

“ _To save my daughter_ ,” Galen repeats, more slowly, as though to an idiot. “I’m more than willing to hand them over.”

Dodonna gives a short laugh, more amused than offended by Galen’s intransigence. “I think it’s safe to say we’re not going to get anything else out of him until his daughter is back with the plans in hand, Draven.” 

“You’re risking the entire Rebellion with this!”

“I’m risking my daughter.” Galen looks to Bail. “You’ve got a daughter old enough to be embroiled in all this – would you risk her?”

Mothma coughs, interrupting Bail’s answer. “Generals, I believe that we have enough to authorise the mission to back up Captain Andor and his companions.”

“He hasn’t given us the codes yet.” Draven’s gaze tried to pin Galen, but Galen returned the look unflinching. He’d spent thirteen years ‘undercover’ in the Empire, subverting whatever he could subvert, using whatever tools came to hand in the quest to undermine the Empire’s great weapon of destruction. “We won’t be getting anywhere without the codes.”

“You won’t be going anywhere without me,” Galen tells him. “I’m coming too.”

* * *

After the fourth time looking for Jyn, Galen first goes to Captain Andor’s bedside before trying anywhere else.

His daughter seems to spend a lot of time ‘seeing Cassian’ these days – rather more than she sees her father, who is awake, alive, and technically not a prisoner of the Rebellion. Galen hasn’t tested exactly how ‘technical’ his stay is, largely because while he wants to leave, he’s not willing to leave without Jyn, and finding the time to speak to Jyn about his plans is something he hasn’t yet had the opportunity to do. Mostly because her time is spent either with Bodhi and the Whill Guardians, or Captain Andor.

If a man was suspicious, he might start to think that his daughter was avoiding him.

Considering Captain Andor has been in and out of the bacta tanks for the injury done to his spinal column during the extraction of the Death Star plans, Galen hasn’t yet been introduced to the young Captain who suborned enough men to run an assault on Scarif. At least, not while the young man is capable of anything more than a blurry smile at Jyn before sinking into a healing sleep.

This time, however, Captain Andor appears awake and coherent, rough beard and all, propped up in his infirmary bed and smiling as he speaks to Jyn in a low, lilting voice, his fingers rubbing across her knuckles as she grins back. Then his eyes lift as he spots movement in the doorway to his room. His smile fades – as it should.

Jyn looks up, and the look on her face is softer than Galen’s seen it in the last few days. It reminds him a little of Lyra – something about the width of her smile.

His smile is for her alone. “Jyn. They told me you’d be here.”

“Yes, I came to— Father, this is Cassian Andor. Cassian, my father, Galen Erso.”

Galen is gratified to note the wary look that shadows the man’s eyes as he greets him. He inclines his head in an acknowledging nod. “Captain Andor.”

“Sir.” The young man hesitates as though thinking what to say. “Thank you for bringing them to our rescue. Jyn would have told you it was close. I don’t like to think how much worse it could have been if the Rebellion hadn’t arrived when they did.”

“Well, I had ulterior motives.” Galen rests a hand on Jyn’s shoulder. “I heard that you were the one who dealt with Orson Krennic when he was threatening Jyn.”

“Yes.” His gaze drops to Jyn’s face. “It was the least I could do.”

“Then you have my gratitude for the life of my Stardust.” And for Lyra’s death, and for the bitter sting of everything he’s endured these last dozen years.

“Father—” Jyn blushes, but her expression is faintly annoyed. And Galen suddenly remembers her child’s rendition of that expression under the lights of Coruscant, as he took time from the project that was Orson’s passion and fervour to read his daughter bedtime stories.

_Uncle Orson says you dote on me._

_Well, why wouldn’t I? You’re my Stardust!_

_You’re silly, Papa._

_Maybe I am, just a little. But maybe someday you’ll understand the value of silly._

They’ve had no time for silly – he in the midst of the Empire, trying to hide his work; she struggling for survival with Saw. But there’s time now – a little, at least until the Empire comes looking for them, and after the Death Star is destroyed, more.

Surely they’ve earned a little time to be a family?

Captain Andor is saying something to Jyn about project names—

“ _I’m_ not the _only_ one with nicknames around here.” This time, the look she turns on Andor is so brutally the look Lyra used to give Galen when he was teasing her and she was calmly threatening retaliation that Galen nearly has to stifle the sob that rises up in him. If she could see who their daughter has become—

“You shouldn’t believe everything a rebel tells you, you know.”

“No, I probably shouldn’t.” The slight edge in the words makes Galen look from his daughter to Andor, who drops his gaze. The smile on his lips wavers a little, but doesn’t drop entirely, and he looks back up at Jyn through his lashes.

“I suppose I deserve that.” The young man’s accent is already gutteral, whatever guilt or shame Jyn has just laid on him makes it nearly indecipherable.

“I suppose you do.” But Galen notes that Jyn’s voice is teasing, and her hand remains in Andor’s, even as she turns to him. “So, Father, what did you come see me for?”

_I can’t just come by to dote on my Stardust?_

“I thought we’d have lunch. Although, if you were planning to stay with Captain Andor for the next meal service, then maybe after” 

“When are they releasing you?”

“Tomorrow, I hope.” He waves a hand, smiling. “Spend time with your father. We can talk later.”

“Okay. Later, then.”

The look they exchange is worse than any kiss could ever be.

* * *

The mess hall is quiet at this time, for which Galen is thankful.

In spite of his status as an Imperial turncoat, he’s not exactly a welcome figure in the Rebellion right now. Nothing has been said to his face, but nothing needs to be. The destruction of Alderaan has been helpfully broadcast across the galaxy by the Empire, and the follow-on reports from ships flying into Alderaani space have confirmed the destruction.

And Galen Erso is the man who conceived the Death Star, and then built it for the Empire.

That he made it with a fatal flaw is nothing in the face of the billions of Alderaanian lives that Tarkin obliterated as a mere torture mechanism, trying to elicit the location of the Rebel base from Bail and Breha’s daughter. Those lives are on his conscience and always will be.

“Cassian said they’ll be using the Death Star plans as soon as they can locate it.”

“General Draven has already lamented the fact that I didn’t also install a homing beacon with the weakness.”

“They’ve asked you about the plans?”

“Asked, interrogated...” At her shocked look he smiles. “General Draven isn’t fond of me, I gather.”

“Oh.” Jyn’s lips press together – her mother’s displeasure. “He was going to have you assassinated, not rescued.”

That explains much. “You talked Captain Andor out of it?”

“I didn’t have to. He chose not to on his own.” 

“Is that why you like him?”

Her eyes lift to his, startled, but she doesn’t flinch, although her cheeks go a little pink. “Yes. Among other things. And...”

“And?”

“He reminds me of you.” Jyn glances down at her food, then meets his gaze again. “That’s not why I like him, of course. But...he’s had to make hard choices. Do things he’s not proud of doing. And he did it all for the Rebellion, for what he believed in.”

“It sounds like Saw made a regular Rebel out of you.”

“Mostly, Saw made me a cynic. I don’t think I really joined the Rebellion until after I saw your message.”

Galen doesn’t wince, although he wants to; it’s rather worse than he imagined. Still, he keeps his voice light. “And now that you’ve joined the Rebellion – as a hero, no less – have they said what they plan to do with you?”

“General Dodonna is looking at putting me and the others on his staff. We’d be a joint taskforce with Intelligence, if General Draven will agree to let Cassian work with us...”

Galen’s already heard it from Bodhi – scattered and a little bit confused, rushed in a way that the young man hadn’t been when Galen sent him out. He hasn’t quite managed to get to the heart of that change. Bodhi gabbles and garbles when Galen asks, and not all the techniques Galen learned in dealing with fractious and brittle scientists and technical personnel have been able to eke out anything that makes sense.

He could probably ask either of the Whill Guardians, but he doesn’t much like the way the blind one looks at him. In particular, the last time he went to find her, the man didn’t even wait for Galen to get his greetings out. He just turned those blind eyes on Galen and said, ‘ _You already know where your daughter’s heart leads._ ’ 

Perhaps it’s just that Galen’s spent so much of his life hiding the truth that he’s not particularly comfortable with someone who sees him so clearly, sightless or not.

Jyn is looking at him, her gaze a little hesitant at his silence. “Father?”

He’s trying to think of how to tell her that his plans for the future don’t involve the Rebellion at all. That he’s had his fill of this fight and the resistance. He only wants to tuck himself away and live quietly with the daughter he never got to see grow up.

The doors open, and one of the Whill Guardians walks in – the one who looks more like a mercenary than a monk.

“They’re briefing the pilots,” he says briskly, his accent nearly as unintelligible as Andor’s. “If you want to see what our efforts have wrought.”

Jyn is half-standing before he’s finished speaking. “Let’s go.”

As he carries his tray and Jyn’s to the disposal units Galen listens to the Whill Guardian talking with Jyn and thinks that he wants better for his daughter than this. He just has to work out how to make her want it, too.

* * *

In the end, Andor finds him. That makes it a little easier at least.

Galen only looks around to see who’s come to join him, before returning to his contemplation of the gas giant that hangs heavy in the sky above the moon.

“Captain.”

“Sir. Jyn was concerned when she couldn’t find you among the celebrants.”

“And yet she isn’t here.”

“I told her I’d look for you.” The young man stands a little way away – out of arm’s reach, as though not entirely certain of his welcome from Galen. As well he might.

“And so you have found me, Captain. You may tell my daughter so.”

Andor’s hand rests on the lichen-crusted parapet a moment, then pulls away, heading back down to the main temple where the partying continues into the night, every footstep slapping with wounded pride, as though he’s done with this.

Galen turns. “Is this the life you want for Jyn, Captain Andor? Always on the run from the Empire, without surcease?”

Even in the reflected light off the planet above them, Galen sees Andor’s shoulders stiffen even before he turns.

“I want what Jyn wants – I want her to have the life she wants.” But Andor is careful and contained as he goes on, “I hope... I hope that life will be with me, but that’s up to her.”

Galen nods, as though he understands, but his mind is already calculating opportunities and looking for the best way to push forward.

“Right now what Jyn wants is the Rebellion. But Jyn’s lived a hard life – abandoned by her own father, then taken in by a freedom fighter, abandoned again when it became too dangerous to keep her. She survived on the streets until she was taken in by the Rebel Alliance... And the Empire continues, even if the threat of the Death Star is gone.”

“Sir, if you know Jyn at all, she will make her own choices and do what she feels is right.”

“She’s young. There have been a lot of changes in her life in the last dozen days alone. Right now, she’ll cling to whatever or whoever promises her stability. And yes, the Rebellion has destroyed the Death star, but the Empire is still out there, and it will dedicate itself to hunting down the Rebels, more than ever.” The _if you know Jyn at all_ stings, and Galen presses his point with a calm certainty that he trusts will shake the younger man, just a little. “A man should be able to offer the woman he loves more than temporary quarters on the move and a medical bedside when he comes back from missions, don’t you think, Captain?”

It’s not a particularly kind thing to cast a man’s inadequacies in his face. Cassian Andor is, from all accounts, a loyal man, a good friend, and a cunning Intelligence officer for the Rebellion, and has been since he survived the destruction of his colony on Fest. On the matter of personal attachments, there is gossip about the droid he reprogrammed and his loyalty to it, although the rumours around the base are that Andor is all cool survival on the outside, but more than makes up for that in bed.

_Although he’d better watch out with Erso,_ one of the pilots laughed as Galen paused out in the corridor beyond, unseen as he eavesdropped,  _Because I watched her face down the Council and she’s a firebrand. Rebellions built on hope, indeed!_

Andor’s face is still and dangerous. “Whatever I can or can’t offer Jyn, sir, the acceptance will be up to her.”

“Will it?” Galen feels his throat thicken and doesn’t try to hide it. “Lyra, Jyn’s mother, died when Orson Krennic came to take me back to the Empire. She was supposed to hide with Jyn, to go to safety where they couldn’t be used against me. Instead, she died trying to stand between me and Orson’s troops. I had thought—” His voice breaks with the memory and grief and anger he’s held onto all these years. “I had thought we’d agreed that she would hide and I would go with Krennic – whatever it took to keep her and Jyn safe. And because she loved me, she risked her life for me and died.”

Galen can still smell the burning flesh in his nostrils, sickly-sweet, drowning out the scent of Lyra’s skin. Sometimes he dreams of her dying in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“I should have sent her and Jyn away when we first heard the Empire might be trying to find me again. But I was selfish; I wanted my wife and my daughter with me, close to me. And so we all paid the price for it – Lyra with her life, Jyn with her parents, and I with my freedom.” He doesn’t hide his tears, nor wipe them away. “I don’t want to see Jyn pay that price the way Lyra did.”

Andor’s fingers curl into fists by his side, and he looks like he’s about to speak, then drops his head. Below, far below them, in the open mouths of the flight hangar, a large group is singing an old anthem of the Galactic Republic, their voices rusty with drink and jubilant with relief. Andor cocks his head, listening, and a line drifts up to the temple rooftop.

_...for families’ freedoms and justice mighty,  
to live in peace and grow in time..._

“You want me to push Jyn away.”

“I want you to think of her _life_. You’re caught up in the Rebellion – you’ve been doing this since you were a child, but Jyn can still walk away. She can survive, even if it’s not with you. I want you to leave her open to the possibility of leaving instead of holding her here with your love.” Galen takes a deep breath. “I know she cares for you, but that might very well blind her to other possibilities. I want you to at least think about it, Captain.”

It feels like a long silence, although it’s probably no more than a few seconds. Below them, the chorus grows rowdy, even as someone manages a harmonic line.

“All right,” the young man says, clipped and short. “I’ll think about it. But Jyn makes her own decisions, sir. And I haven’t always been succesful in dissuading her.”

“All I ask is that you try. In the end, I want what you want, Captain – I want her safe.”

In the quiet, Galen hears a long, slow, exhalation of breath. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. And I’ll let Jyn know that you’re here.”

This time, he lets Captain Andor go without further interruption. His seeds are sown, it’s up to Captain Andor and whether he cares enough about Jyn to let her go.

Standing up here in the semi-darkness, with the Rebellion celebrating their success in the temple below, Galen acknowledges he has nothing against Andor, personally. Even the knowledge that the man might have killed him fails to stir any bitterness – he knows what it is to do a job that one dislikes.

But Galen has been forced into partisanship once before; and went quietly because he had no hope left. Now, with his daughter alive and his future free, he will burn whatever he must burn in the battle for Jyn’s safety and future.

* * *

The datapad he’s accessed gives him a galactic path back to Lah’mu – long and convoluted if he wishes to avoid the worst of the Imperial check points. It’s not likely there’ll be anything left of the homestead, but it will give him somewhere to stay for a while. And if Jyn comes with him, then there’ll be room for them both, and a memory of better times...

In the midst of the packing and preparation to move base, Galen hasn’t managed to get a clear answer out of Jyn regarding anything. She seems rushed and distracted, and evades his questions about her plans with light and casual observations that might floor Galen if only he didn’t remember Lyra using the same tactics to divert him.

He’s wondering if he’ll have to bring it to a point; he’d rather not push a confrontation with Jyn, but it might come to that. There’s less than forty hours before he’s due to ship. Essential Rebellion personnel have already gone ahead to the new base, codenamed ‘Winter’; they haven’t entrusted him with the actual planet.

“Father?” A knock on his door heralds the very person he’s looking for, and he set the datapad down and welcomes her into his room. “All packed I see.”

He glances around. “There’s not much. The Rebellion has been quite kind, all things considered.”

“But you’re not going on to the next base.”

Galen gestures for her to sit down, and when she rests her hands on the table, he enfolds her hand in his. “Stardust, my darling, I’m tired. I want some peace. I’ve let General Cracken know that I’ll advise the Rebellion on any further weapons that the Empire comes up with – most of them have passed across my datapad in some form or another in the last few years – but I don’t want to join the Rebellion. I’ve worked for it for the last twelve years, fighting the Empire from the inside, because that was all I had. Now... Now I’d like to spend a little more time with my daughter.” He squeezes her hand lightly. “I know you and Captain Andor have an understanding but perhaps you could take some time...”

Her gaze falls. “I don’t... I don’t think it’s like that....”

“Oh?”

One shoulder lifts. “Cassian’s been in meetings a lot lately. And when he’s not in meetings, he’s...seeing other people on the base. Or busy.” Her smile is small and falsely bright. “Usually busy.”

“Ah.” Galen gives Captain Andor full credit for determination. He hadn’t expected quite such willingness from the young man – not that he’s complaining. “I’ve been speaking with other Intelligence officers over the last few days. Jyn, they talk about mission intimacy. Working in close quarters on an intense mission creates a sense of...closeness among people. And while it feels very real – it is very real for the duration of the mission...it doesn’t always last.” His throat tightens a little. “I’ve seen the same thing happen on high-pressure projects. You’re so involved in the goal that the...other things tend to fade away and you think you’re all in full agreement...only...”

He trails off because Jyn’s smile has a painfully bitter twist to it. Almost, Galen wishes he hadn’t said anything to Andor at all. Then he reminds himself that this is for Jyn’s future.

“Maybe we should go away for a while. I’m going back to Lah’mu. I’d like to— Your mother is buried there, Orson did that much for her. I’d like to spend some time with you – no Death Star, no interruptions from others, no responsibilities...just us. We’ve lost so many years that we could have had together— Years that Krennic and the Empire stole. I’d like time with you. I...I’d like to meet the woman you’ve grown into, hear your stories, learn what you’ve been doing. We haven’t really had time to do that with everything else going on.”

Her eyes light up at that, he can see how attractive the idea is. And yet... “They’ll be looking for you. For us. Like they did last time.”

“They will,” he agrees. “But it will take longer now. The Empire’s still in disarray and will be for some time, and Krennic was the one who knew me best, knew how I think. Now he’s dead, the Empire won’t have as much interest in me. You’re more likely to be a target than I am – assuming someone worked out who you were, which seems unlikely.”

“What about Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze?”

“They’re more than welcome to come if they want – although I was hoping it would be just us for a while.” But he’s pushing too hard. Galen can see the hesitation in her eyes and simply squeezes her hand before letting go. “Think about it, please? Stardust?”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

She’s got such a serious and solemn expression that he can’t quite help smiling – how he remembers that frown on her, so small and fiercely intent! He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, wondering at the woman that grew from his little girl and grins as her eyes narrow.

“Papa—” She breaks off as her commlink begins to buzz. “This is Jyn. Right now?” Her eyes meet Galen’s. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Meeting?”

“I’ve been helping the squadrons sort through stuff that belonged to the pilots who died in the recent missions; get it packed up and sorted out, ready to ship back to their families.”

“Not a particularly happy job.”

“No, but someone needs to do it. And I know a bit about market values, which is useful for the families or people left inheriting things...” Jyn shrugs as she stands, then hesitates and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll let you know about Lah’mu by tomorrow lunch.”

“Don’t leave it too long,” Galen warns as he sees her out the door. “The transports leave in the late evening.”

She half-turns in the passageway and a trick of the light casts Lyra’s rueful smile on her mouth. “One passenger won’t make a big difference, Father. Tomorrow lunch.”

* * *

And yet by lunch the next day, Galen has heard nothing from Jyn.

She sat with him and Bodhi at breakfast, a little table in the increasing empty mess hall. But Bodhi was in one of his manic moods, chattering away on everything, his hands restlessly rearranging his tray until Galen put his hand on top of the younger man’s, grounding him a little. Dealing with Bodhi and his restlessness gave Galen no time to ask his daughter about her decision – if it had even been made. She looked wan and a little weary, like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and he nearly asked if she’d spoken to Captain Andor lately.

Then Andor walked in and his gaze lit on Jyn’s head, facing away from the door. His eyes clung to her for a few long seconds before he pressed his lips together, gave Galen a brief nod, then went to sit at another table. A minute later, his laugh rang out among others and Jyn tensed, then relaxed as, beside her, Bodhi put a hand over hers in comfort or sympathy or even solidarity.

But she didn’t confirm she’d be coming with Galen to Lah’mu.

Just before lunch, Galen confirms his route with Generals Cracken and Draven. It’s to their benefit as much as his own that he doesn’t get picked up by Imperial forces, so they’re willing enough to double-check his calculations and confirm that he should be able to reach the planet without crossing Imperial-controlled space while on parole.

“You’re not on parole, Erso,” Draven snaps when Galen references it as such. “So stop playing the martyr!”

Airen Cracken, on the other hand, smiles wryly. “We have been rather demanding, haven’t we? Look, there’s no doubting we’re sorry to lose the intel you can provide us on Empire weaponry – particularly anything else that’s been in the works for the last fifteen years. But we’re not the Empire, and we’re not going to strongarm you into helping us.”

“Not even by suborning my daughter with one of your Intelligence officers?”

“ _She_ was the one who suborned _him_ ,” growls Draven, thrusting the commpad back at Galen. “Fine, go. Vanish into the ether and leave us swinging in the wind.”

“Now who’s being melodramatic, Davitz?” Cracken holds out one hand which Galen shakes easily enough. “May the Force go with you, Erso.”

He doesn’t trust the Head of Security and Intelligence, but he thinks that, under other circumstances, he might have liked him. But he’s done with the Rebellion – at least for the moment. He wants to mourn what he’s lost and rediscover what he still has left.

It turns out he has rather less than he thought he did.

As Galen turns the corner back to his rooms, prepared to call Jyn’s commlink and confirm that she’s coming back with him to Lah’mu, he stops, arrested by the sight of his daughter and Captain Andor standing in front of his door.

The Captain’s hand is just lifting to cup Jyn’s head, but from the look of it, their mouths have been quite busy these last few moments.

He clears his throat and is pleased to see Andor tense, even before he lifts his lips from Jyn.

Galen addresses his daughter first. “I guess you’re not coming to Lah’mu, then.”

Jyn looks torn. “Father—”

“This isn’t...” He stops himself. Starts again. “When Saw Gerrera got our family out of the Empire the first time, when you were still a child, he offered us sanctuary with him. But we didn’t want you to grow up a child soldier, Jyn – not if there was another chance. We hoped for you to have something else. Not this. Something...more.”

She looks up at Andor, and he slips his hand into hers. And Galen knows then that he’s lost, even before Jyn starts to speak.

“We’ll never have those years back, Father. Krennic and the Empire stole that future from us all those years ago.” Her voice is soft and clear in the quiet of the hallway. “We can’t change what happened, but...we can keep it from happening to others – if we stop the Empire. No more families torn apart. No more planets destroyed. No more child soldiers.” Her gaze flicks up to Andor, and the corners of his mouth curve before she looks back at Galen. “But we have to fight for it, Father. And I’m going to stay and fight with the Rebellion.”

There’s a moment when Galen can’t speak. Jyn looks and sounds so much like Lyra right now that he can almost hear his wife telling him that they can’t stay here and aid the Empire any longer, they need to get out, the sooner the better, and she has a contact who can get them away...

It was Lyra’s strength of character, her burning faith and belief that helped them escape the Empire the first time; her willingness to do and say whatever it took for her family’s freedom. And it’s Lyra’s fierce and fighting nature in their daughter that will bind her to the Rebellion and its cause, with or without Cassian Andor.

Galen knows when he’s lost. He can, at least, avoid alienating his daughter, however much he wishes she’d made the choice otherwise.

Still, he’s not about to let Andor off the hook entirely. He meets the dark gaze squarely, with all the authority he learned working in the Empire. “It takes rather less to destroy a man than to destroy a planet, Captain. You’d best remember that.”

“Father!”

Andor smiles and tugs at Jyn’s hand as she protests. “If I hurt Jyn in any way, sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to stand in line, because Jyn will get the first punch – and she doesn’t pull them.”

They share a look, warm and intimate, before Jyn disentangles her hand from Andor’s and comes towards him.

Not a child anymore, but a woman grown and capable of looking after herself. So Galen tells himself as her arms close around him to hold him tightly. And yet she’s his daughter and always will be – loved and lost and found and loved and lost again.

Over her shoulder, he fixes Cassian Andor with a warning glare which the young man patiently weathers. The insolent pup even mouths, _I’ll look after her, I promise._

Galen doesn’t bother to dignify that with an answer.

Jyn will look after herself – as she always has. 

 

_A daughter may outgrow your lap,  
But she will never outgrow your heart._

**Author's Note:**

> I fear this is not quite the story I wished to write to the prompt. Fond as I am of the Shovel Talk trope, I couldn't quite get it working for this scenario. Galen ended up focusing more on wanting to get Jyn out somewhere safe rather than threatening Cassian with dismemberment or possibly vaporisation, and so this is the story that ended up being written.
> 
> On the plus side, it's now out of my head and I can turn my brain to writing more stories (Rogue One stories among them).


End file.
